Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
RAVEN
M ystic Beans was closed for the rest of the day.
Noah thought it was fun being there when no one else was.
I’ve probably earned a bad mom badge for feeding him baked goods and letting him have a screen all day.
But some of them had fruit and cheese, so he was able to get a few of the food groups. And he watched a few educational shows.
It’s all about balance, right?
The rest of us were coming up with a game plan. It was like one of those Ocean’s movies, except I had two overprotective men who think I'm made of glass and a best friend who is all about feminism.
The sun had disappeared from the sky before we settled on what to do. Griffin and Knox weren’t happy with the result, Kat was ready for battle, and Camden was still a nervous wreck.
Griffin and Knox slept fitfully, but I slept like a baby, nestled between my two guard dogs.
In the morning, the general mood was grave.
But I was ready to go. We took Noah to school, his first day back after he was drugged.
We debated taking him to Kat’s parents. She insisted they’re desperate to be grandparents, but we decided on sending him to school.
We recruited Benny to sit in the school parking lot to make sure no one tries to go after Noah again.
For the last twenty minutes, Griffin, Knox, and I have been sitting in the truck, idling outside the police station. Griffin sits in the driver seat with Knox in the passenger, and me nestled between them. Griffin lifted the center console earlier, turning it into another seat.
Griffin’s stare doesn’t leave the entrance. “Are you sure about this?”
“You asked me that a million times already.”
Griffin shakes his head at my teasing. “It wasn’t a million.”
“Close enough,” I mutter.
“Don’t be a brat,” Griffin returns.
I place my hand on his thigh, getting his attention. “I’m going to be fine. You’ll be right there with me.”
Knox bounces his leg in his seat. “Maybe we should go with plan B.”
“We don’t have a plan B,” I remind him. My phone buzzes in my lap.
Kat: In position.
Showing the screen to Griffin and Knox, I nod to the door. “Let’s do this.”
Begrudgingly, Griffin and Knox slide out. I follow Griffin out of the driver’s side. He places his hands on my hips, keeping me from crossing the street.
“You better come out of this in one piece.”
“I will.” Lifting up on my toes, I press my lips to his. With his hand in mine, Griffin shuts his door, and we cross the street with Knox, who grabs my other hand.
I’ve never been inside a police station before, and it looks nothing like I thought it would. Although my expectations are based on Hollywood movies.
The front desk is obnoxiously labeled with big bold letters and sits behind a window.
There’s a small hole at the bottom of the window that allows for documents and other things to be passed back and forth.
Thin hard carpet covers the floor of the lobby, and a single bench is situated along the left wall.
On the opposite wall is a huge bulletin board with fliers, wanted posters, and town information.
Other than that, this front area is bare.
“Can I help you?” A woman with bright orange lipstick and bold dangling earrings blinks at us impatiently. The silhouette of her walnut hair is massive and looks to be intentional. A gossip magazine sits on her desk, open to an article about some sex scandal between celebrities.
“Hi.” I step forward. “I’m here to see Sheriff Jackson.”
Her tongue runs along her teeth behind her lips. “Is he expecting you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I was hoping to get an update on the break-in at my house.”
She blinks at me like she’s inconvenienced that I’m even here. “Name?”
“Raven Henry.”
She types a few things into her computer and dismisses me. “Have a seat.”
Griffin and Knox join me on the bench. Folding my arms and crossing my legs, I lean back in a huff. “She’s quite the charmer.”
Knox sits back with me and places his arm across my shoulders. “That’s Wanda for you.”
“It’s because we’re here.” Griffin places his hand on my knee.
I’m mentally compiling a list of all the people who are going to receive a burning bag of shit on their porch.
Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text.
Me: Waiting.
Kat responds with a thumbs up emoji, and I slide my phone back into my pocket.
A booming voice grabs my attention. “Raven Henry.” Sheriff Jackson stands on the threshold between the lobby and the rest of the station. “Come with me.”
The three of us stand together.
“Not them. Just you.” The sheriff scowls at Griffin and Knox.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
Griffin glowers back. “No way. I’m not leaving her with you.”
“I’ll be fine.” I don’t wait for them to get comfortable with the idea and stalk toward the sheriff. Griffin and Knox’s protests are cut off when the door shuts behind me.
Hopefully they still follow through with their part of the plan. I’m counting on them. Sitting in their seats where they can be recorded, giving them a rock-solid alibi.
Sheriff Jackson leads me to his office through the other half of the station. Exactly three desks are arranged in what I believe they call the bullpen on TV. An open door to my right shows me a small kitchen, and right out in the open are two cells on the left.
The walls are decorated with various posters. A particular set catches my eye. They display the tattoos associated with different gangs and bikers. Ferrymen, Iron Coyotes, and Bandidos. A few more have MS-13, Aryan Brotherhood, and Latin Kings.
Wow. I think this is the entire station. Nothing like small town America.
“In here.” Sheriff Jackson waves to another open door.
The room is bleak with a plain desk, two hard chairs, a computer chair, and a computer.
A huge bookshelf covering the far wall is the only thing that could be considered welcoming in this space.
There’s a window that looks out across the bullpen and another that gives a view of the back parking lot.
Sheriff Jackson enters behind me and falls into his chair. He sets his elbows on the desk and steeples his hands under his chin. “Have a seat.”
Doing as he instructs, I occupy the chair closest to the door. “Thank you.”
“What can I do for you today?”
“I was wondering if you had any updates on the break-in.”
He sighs. “Miss Henry, this is still an active investigation. I’m not at liberty to disclose any details.”
I figured he’d sing this tune.
Leaning forward, I drop my voice slightly like I’m telling him a secret. “Between you and me, I don’t trust that Officer Langston. Isn’t it weird how he showed up before you at the library and at my house?”
The sheriff raises his brows and uses his hands to hide his grin.
Got him.
“If you ask me, that’s suspicious behavior. I know he claimed jurisdiction, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re the sheriff of Mystic River. Not him.”
Sheriff Jackson looks downright gleeful, and he’s doing a poor job of hiding his satisfaction. He wipes his mouth with his hand, making his boastful smile disappear, and clears his throat. “Let me see what I can find out about the progression of the case.”
He reaches for the corded phone on his desk, but he stops before he touches the handset. “What in the damned tarnation?” His gaze is focused on the back parking lot.
Forcing concern into my tone, I play dumb. “Sheriff? Are you okay?”
“Aw, hell!” He jumps from his chair, then glances at me. “Wait here, Miss Henry. I’ll be right back.”
Sheriff Jackson unholsters his gun as he grabs the radio at his hip and darts out of the room. “10-75! 10-75! Someone is stealing my truck from the station!”
Tilting my chair back and balancing on the back legs, I watch the sheriff freak out while holding in my laugh.
“Wanda! Try to get my deputies on the radio! Mine isn’t working!”
Sheriff Jackson dashes out the back door, and I rush to the window. The sheriff chases his truck as someone drives it out of the lot, throwing dust in the sheriff’s face. He doesn’t stop running and follows his vehicle out onto Main Street.
Surging into action, I start pulling open the drawers of Sheriff Jackson’s desk. My heart pounds in my chest as I rifle through drawer after drawer.
Camden should be able to keep the sheriff and his deputies busy with a missing truck long enough for me to find the evidence. But I still don’t want to dally.
Yanking another handle, I sift through its contents.
Papers. Papers. Spare gun. More papers.
Finally finding one that won’t open on the bottom left, I pull as hard as I can, hoping it’s a crappy lock and the drawer will just come free. I huff when I can’t get it to budge even the slightest.
This was supposed to be Griffin’s job. But since he had to stay back, I’m improvising.
Digging through the wide, skinny drawer in the middle, I search for a key. Instead, I find a pair of scissors.
Images flash through my consciousness as my past threatens to take over and blind me.
But I’m not that girl anymore.
I’m stronger. I’m smarter. I’ve survived.
Opening the scissors, I stick one of the blades into the lock and jimmy it around until the blade can’t go any further. I twist the handle, and the lock gives way. Inside, I find flash drives. So many flash drives. There has to be at least a hundred or more here.
Which one is it?
I begin picking them up one at a time, reading the labels, but each label ties my stomach in knots. CJ Session 65, CJ Session 13, CJ Session 72.
My throat squeezes shut as nausea rolls through me. Eyeing the open doorway, I make sure no one is coming.
I’ve seen some ugly things in my time, but I could never imagine allowing something like this to happen to my son. Let alone watching it afterward.
They’re not getting away with this. I won’t let them.
Grabbing a couple of pocket folders from a drawer I had already searched, I remove the papers and load them up with the flash drives. I refuse to leave a single one behind for this sick asshole’s pleasure.
My hands shake as I take each flash drive and place it in a folder.
When I’m done, I close and lock the drawer and shove the loose papers into another. I replace the scissors and make sure everything is in its place.
I straighten my clothes, tuck both pocket folders under my arm, and march out of the office and back through the station.
My heart stops when Wanda speaks to me as I open the door to the lobby. “Sheriff Jackson will be back soon.”
I force a smile at her. “It’s fine. I know he’s busy. I’ll just come back later.”
Wanda shrugs and goes back to flipping through the magazine in front of her.
Entering the lobby, I find Griffin and Knox still there, dutifully waiting for my return. They jump to their feet and follow me out.
When we’re all outside, we take off in a sprint to Griffin’s truck and hop in. Griffin briskly starts the engine and zooms away.
Knox looks at the pocket folders in my lap. “What’s that?”
My hands squeeze the folders reflectively, as if they’ll disappear into thin air at any moment.
“Whitlock’s and Jackson’s demise.”